Holden, Holdy, H, Turd, Bruh,
You are 12 years old today. A tween. A pre-teen. Almost a middle-schooler.
You’ve recently been described to me by observers as, “extraordinary,” “poised,” “so grown up,” “that cool city kid” and “brimming with confidence.”
You are, of course, all of those things. You’re also funny, silly, gross, strong, kind, lazy, creative, loud and empathetic.
Your fashion sense gives unkempt. I believe your aesthetic is what the internet calls “Hot Cheeto Girl”: crop tops, pajama pants, crocs (or slippers), sometimes a blanket.
Your bestie this year is Joseph. You both aggravated your teachers (poor Mr. Eskew and Mr. Gray) all year long by being inseparable (sometimes literally). The family is basically used to living with Joseph on FaceTime as part of our daily lives.
6th grade was really *your* year. You thrived academically and socially. You enjoyed working with Ms. Weaver, and apparently had your “school moms,” Katherine and Lynettsie, to keep you on the right track (sometimes literally).
Your Exhibition Project focused on “0 Hunger,” and looked at food insecurity in our community and your school.
You got braces (!) in January. Despite the Orthodontist’s warning against chewy candy, you’ve already managed to lose 3 brackets.
You’re a candy fiend: airheads, starburst, skittles, nerd gummies. Really, you’re a junk food fiend (see “Hot Cheeto Girl,” above). But you also love fruit (you’ll eat a pint of raspberries in one sitting), and you’ve gotten super into açaí bowls and sushi. And bubble tea. And “starbies,” obvs.
A new bodega opened on our street and you’ve really been enjoying your new independence to walk down there and use your debit card to buy junk daily. This year, you and GB started walking to and from school while I recovered from my knee surgery.
You also like to walk Carl around the neighborhood in his cat carrier and to ride your bike with our neighbors Rai and Mari (wear your dang helmet!)
You fell in love with Hawai’i during our family trip in March. I was messing around with ancestry.com recently and we discovered that your great great grandma was born at sea en route from Portugal to Hawai’i and that she’s buried in Honolulu in Diamond Head Cemetery, near where we hiked. So it seems like Hawai’i is actually in your blood!
Hawai’i was a perfect match for your love for nature and animals. Last summer, you started attending farm therapy with Miss Terri at Hope Adventures. Twice a month, you get to play with the horses and goats and Bella the donkey, and explore the farm while working through stuff.
This summer, you joined the Purple Reign team at York Elite Cheerleading and just started your first week of practices. Of course, you’ve already made fast friends and exchanged numbers with teammates and your coach has called to tell me how impressed she is with you and your hard work.
I’m also “forcing” you to attend Career Camp at York Tech next week, so you can learn about some of the programs that are available there. You don’t want to go, but if I twisted your arm you’d maybe say you’re interested in cosmetology or early childhood education.
You’re spending your actual birthday at Kalahari Resort in the Poconos, for Mr. Bill’s PA Truck Driving Championship event. You’ll spend the day at the waterpark, eating junk, hanging with your cousins and, no doubt, on your phone with friends.
Your birthday present is tickets to attend the Melanie Martinez concert (with Joseph) in Hershey on July 31 and a K-12 Dress to wear to the show. You guys tried to change your look last minute to “Portals,” but it’s gonna have to be K-12 (Reader: don’t even try to understand; just Google it).
You’ve also requested a perm from Miss Kevan for your birthday, so we’ll be going to see Miss Jess in a few weeks. Now I won’t have to braid your (and your brother’s) hair every night anymore.
Speaking of your brother: he’s probably the only person in this world you aren’t a sweetheart to. God, you guys are dicks to each other. But we all know you always have each other’s back if shit goes down.
We love you, kid. You’re turning into a really great, weird, sweet human and we couldn’t be prouder of you. Except maybe if you stopped farting in the car all the time. Happy Birthday!
oh bother. blog 